Strictly Business
by LobaEclipse
Summary: Ten/Rose hooker AU. John and Rose are best mates who like to talk shop, but that's all there is between them. Really.


**Disclaimer**: _Doctor Who_ is the property of the BBC.

**Tile**: Strictly Business

**Rating**: M

**Warnings**: Adult language and situations. Prostitution. Consensual Voyeurism. Puns.

**Summary**: Ten/Rose hooker AU. John and Rose are best mates who like to talk shop, but that's all there is between them. Really.

**A/N**: When one half of your OTP is Casanova and the other half is Belle de Jour, it's actually a little surprising that no one has written this fic before. If someone has, I haven't seen it, so your friendly neighborhood asexual author decided to write smut.

ooo

It was kind of nice to have a friend in the business. Oh, Donna and Jack were certainly her friends, but they handled the _really_ dirty details, the telephone calls and the schedules and the payments, not the clients themselves. It was hard to get close to the other girls, no matter how nice most of them were, because there was always that nagging suspicion in her head, the reminder that they were the competition. Many were there because they thought they had no other option. Their seductive, secretive world was a dead-end job just like any other. The pessimism quickly became tiresome and the cattiness was the final straw.

John seemed to be immune to all this. Not because he was above it, Rose thought wryly, but because he was oblivious. He was friendly and optimistic, and there wasn't much overlap in their clientele.

"Do you really read your own reviews?" she said, pulling the laptop off of the coffee table and onto her knees.

"Of course!" he half-shouted from the kitchen. The microwave droned as John clattered though the cabinets in search of the popcorn bowl. "How else to maintain a perfect ten score?"

"Well, I hate to break it to you, but you're actually a nine-point-seven," she said, smirking, as she scrolled down the page. "Left of the sink, top shelf," she added and turned her head to look over the back of the couch.

His skinny torso was visible through the cut-through between the kitchen and the sitting room, tee-shirt riding up as he stretched for the top shelf. There was a little cry of triumph and a hollow thump, then he ducked down to grin at her through the opening with the big plastic bowl upside down on his head like a particularly ridiculous hat. She couldn't help but laugh at him.

The popcorn began to pop and the microwave trembled ominously. Rose eyed it.

"That thing's not going to blow up again, is it?"

"Honestly, Rose, it was only twice."

"Four times."

"Three and a half times," he conceded.

The microwave beeped shrilly and then fell silent with no evidence of smoke or flames. John dumped the popcorn in the bowl. Rose had turned back to the computer but she heard him hiss. Sure enough, when he came around the corner he was holding the bowl with one hand and sucking on the first two fingers of the other.

"Caution, product may be hot," said Rose.

He flopped down beside her and stuck his tongue out.

She pointed at one of the reviews. "DameAC says you have an excellent tongue."

"And she has excellent taste," he said primly, drying his fingers on his shirt tail.

She refused to laugh on principle.

"Are we ready, or were you too busy admiring my virtues to do anything?"

Rolling her eyes, she replaced the laptop and picked up the television remote, gesturing to the menu screen displayed as she did so. "Season two, right?"

"Yup."

"And I don't think that 'virtues' is the word I would use," she added, selecting the right episode and burrowing into his side.

She felt him chuckle as he slung an arm around her shoulders.

When the average person thought of high-end escorts, a pair of giggling twenty-somethings in ratty hoodies marathoning sci-fi shows on a Tuesday afternoon probably didn't immediately come to mind. Still, everyone was entitled to a day off.

"So," he drawled as episode three's credits began to roll. "Weirdo of the week?"

"Foot fetish."

"That's it?" he scoffed. "Common as weeds, these days."

"Alright, hipster whore," she said, elbowing his ribs. "What about you?"

"Two sisters, one appointment."

"Really?"

"Yep."

"Twins?"

"Nope."

"Are you serious?"

"Oh, yes."

She peered at him closely. "You're sure?"

"One hundred percent," he said, downing a long drink of water as though it were something stronger. "They were talking about bringing the youngest one with them next time."

"Okay, you win this round, mate," she said, saluting him with her own plastic cup.

"Is this the one where they get covered in slime?" he said, attention back on the show.

"I think it's a two-parter," she said.

When the slimy episodes were over, he picked up the thread of their conversation as though they hadn't stopped.

"I had dinner with Donna the other night. She lost a bet, had to cook. Actually, we ended up getting Thai – _Anyway_," he caught his ramble before it got too far off course. "Tallulah-with-three-Ls-and-an-H was there with Martha. Don't know if you've met Martha yet."

She shrugged. "Don't remember."

"Medical student," he said.

Rose felt her eyebrows creep to her hairline but didn't comment.

"Anyway," he said again. "She – Tallulah, that is – she's thinking about quitting."

"She wants to be an actress, right? Did she get a job?"

"As a dancer, yeah. She made friends with one of the stage hands."

"Oh, I see," Rose grinned. "She found a knight in shining armor to rescue her from her horrible life."

"Don't say it like that," he laughed. "But she's definitely got stars in her eyes, and it's not about the spotlight. Something else, too," he said more seriously. "One of her clients had got a bit rough. That's why Martha was there."

She huffed a little laugh in spite of everything. Tallulah was sweet but scrappy and, Rose was willing to bet, ruthless if she had to be.

"She had a few battle scars," John continued. He was absentmindedly stroking her shoulder as he spoke. "A black eye and some broken fingernails. Martha patched her up alright, but I could tell she was spooked."

"How did he end up with her anyway? They're usually really good about checking."

"He was new, hadn't even been through any of the other agencies. Tallulah said he seemed nervous and the liquid courage made him mean."

"Ugh, poor thing. Tallulah, I mean," she said.

"Yeah."

Episode six started and they were quiet for a while.

"I had this one bloke," she said softly, after they had reached the season finale and neither felt like getting up for the next one. "It was years ago. He didn't hit me or anything but he said some things. Just kinda gave off a creepy vibe, you know?"

She felt him nod.

"He showed up at my flat one night – I'm still not sure how he even found it – drunk out of his head and shouting. I didn't let him in, obviously."

"What did you do? Call the police?"

She snorted. "I called Jack. I didn't see what happened and Jack never told me, but I'm pretty sure he beat the hell out of him."

"Then what?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "That was the end of it. I never saw him again. I was a little more cautious and I think Jack felt guilty about it. That was before we'd started working with you and Donna. Might've been part of why he agreed to it, come to think of it."

"Safety in numbers, eh?"

"And Donna's some sort of goddess of background checks."

"Oi!" He nudged her. "Part of that is because of my software, thank you very much."

"You're welcome."

"You . . . !"

"Me," she said, curling her tongue in the corner of her grin. She sobered. "What about you, then?"

"What about me?"

"Have you ever had any scary clients?"

"Nah. Well," he caught himself. "Scary, yes, a few. Dangerous, not so much."

"Of course, of course," she said and prodded his chest. "Big manly man, too strong to let a client beat you up."

"Well, it costs extra."

They both dissolved into giggles.

"Though, to be fair," he said after a moment. "I've had more than a few get a little too enthusiastic on the hair."

She reached up to ruffle said hair. It was only haphazardly tamed, as befitted a day spent on the sofa in front of the telly, but she was still certain he'd spent more time on it that morning than she had spent on hers.

"It is very tempting," she admitted.

"Are you victim blaming, Rose Tyler? How antiquated."

She flicked his ear. "You know what I mean."

"Hmm." He pretended to be insulted.

"I had a punter yank my wig off on accident once," she said. "Can't say which of us was more surprised."

He tugged a blonde lock, sniggering. "Shame to cover this up, though."

"Apparently he thought so, too."

"Do you ever think about quitting?" he said suddenly.

"What, the blonde?"

"The job," he said, looking down his nose at her.

She sighed and frowned at his alarmingly geeky movie collection. "No," she said. "Why would I want to?"

"Maybe if you got like Tallulah, with a good bloke and a job you've always wanted," he said.

"I like this job," she said. "I'm not like her, trying to make ends meet while I wait for my big break. I wanted this life and I knew what I was getting into."

"You honestly like it?"

"Well, you see, John, people pay me to have sex," she said.

"Really?" he said, wide-eyed. "I've never heard of such a thing. Tell me more."

"It's always an adventure, isn't it? Different people, different places. You never know what you're going to get. Plus, the pay's not too shabby."

"Yeah," he said with a grin tugging at the edge of his mouth. "Can't beat that."

"Is that why you do it? The fun or the money?"

"That's part of it, sure," he said. He sank down until his head lolled against the back of the sofa and stared at the ceiling. "I like – I like the people. You meet all kinds, but they're all so desperate for companionship, for some sort of connection. It's nice to give that to them, even if it's just for a little while."

"Wow," she said.

"Is that completely ridiculous?"

"Not _completely_," she said. "But you did wax philosophical about fucking."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah," she said softly. "I do."

He chased her out before too long with the admonition to get some sleep before their run the next day. Rose groaned. She was not a morning person. One of the perks of the job was the schedule, but she still had to keep fit. Jogging three times a week with John was part of it. She truly enjoyed his company, and even the running, but she had yet to convince him that it was possible to it at some time besides the crack of dawn. They liked to compete on the last half mile. The loser bought breakfast, but if she had to pay that also meant that she'd had a nice view of his bum, so it all evened out.

Her mobile rang just as she was settling into the back of the taxi.

"It's my day off," she sing-songed.

"I just missed your beautiful voice so much," said Jack on the other end. "You know how I hate to interrupt your visit to the museum or the observatory or all those other fascinating dates John takes you on."

"They're fun, they aren't dates, and we spent the day in, thank you very much."

"Oh, really." He sounded sinfully intrigued.

"We were just watching telly, shut up," she said.

"All snuggled up together, fingers brushing in the popcorn bowl, seductively whispering about the scientific inaccuracies of the time machines," he said.

"Is there a reason you called me?" she said breezily. He couldn't make her blush. She was a professional escort, for fuck's sake. It was just a bit warm in the taxi, that was all.

"All work and no play. Fine, fine," he said in a long-suffering tone. "I've got you a job. How does a Monday night threesome sound?"

"I'm free all evening," she said, double-checking her planner.

"Good, you were asked for personally and wanted all night. I would have hated to say no."

"Eight o'clock?"

"Better make it seven."

"And what sort of . . . clients?" she said, keenly aware of the driver's less-than-subtle interest.

"Only one, actually. He just likes to watch," he said.

"Okay, then," she said slowly, blinking. All night at a hotel, with half again her usual fee, and he only wanted to watch? Just when she thought she'd gotten used to the business . . .

"That pretty much what I said. But, hey, we're not here to judge."

"We should put that on our business cards."

He laughed.

"But, who's the other one, then?" she said.

"One of our new boys, Jake. He's fun; you'll like him," he said.

"Yeah, but . . . . I mean, it's usually you and me." She was no stranger to threesomes, though they usually consisted of two call girls and one male client. A job with a male escort was rarer, and she'd almost exclusively worked with Jack.

"I know, I know," Jack said mournfully. "And it truly breaks my heart to miss a lovely evening with you, but it's Donna's night off and I promised her I'd work the phones."

"Alright," she said, though her pout was only half mocking. "I'll make do with . . . Jake."

"The client didn't have a preference so I picked him out just for you. Honest, Rosie, he's got great reviews and he's good-looking."

"What more could I ask for?"

"Donna's vetted them both and like I said, I'll be in all night, so no worries there."

"Alright," she smiled. "Thanks, Jack."

She updated her calendar with one last job before her Tuesday "weekend" and whistled softly to herself. It was going to be a long, busy week.

ooo

The Doctor bounced lightly on his toes as he waited for the lift doors to open. He wasn't anxious, per se, and he certainly wasn't nervous but he was maybe, just a little, edgy. He'd had a job that afternoon and had just gotten back to his own flat when Jack had called ranting about how Jake had canceled at the last minute and he knew it was short notice but Donna would kill both of them if they lost this client and could the Doctor maybe, please fill in? In the spirit of helping out a friend while also earning money, he had agreed before asking where and when the appointment was. When Jack told him that it was in less than two hours on the other side of London, the relief was so obvious in his voice that the Doctor didn't have the heart to back out.

It really wouldn't have been too bad – the brown pinstriped suit was a good standby and traffic wasn't really terrible – but as he was rushing through his shower and planning out his next steps he realized that Jack had failed to mention just who he was sharing the job with. He'd only said that the client had picked out one of the girls at the agency for a threesome but hadn't been specific on the other aside from the fact that it should be a man. The Doctor had been busy tamping down a completely irrational flare of affront – by this point in his career, most of his clients asked for him specifically – and was promptly distracted by the schedule. Between hair and socks and finally getting a taxi he hadn't slowed down long enough to call back and ask.

It didn't really matter, he told himself as he escaped the lift. He was a professional. He would professionally cooperate with his coworker just as he would professionally apologize for running late.

The door to room five-oh-three was answered by a generically handsome, dark skinned man, shorter and broader than the Doctor. There was something in his posture and haircut that registered as military and it made the Doctor's nape prickle in spite of himself. The man smiled though, and stuck out his hand.

"The Doctor, right? The woman at the agency called to say there'd been a bit of a . . . scheduling mishap."

"That's right," the Doctor said with his most charming grin. Not his real grin, which Donna told him was slightly terrifying to strangers. "So sorry for the trouble." He shook his hand.

"Oh, it happens, I understand. I'm Zach, by the way," the man said as he waved away his concerns and ushered the Doctor inside. "We were just having a bit of a chat."

The hotel room was actually a suite. It had a facsimile of a sitting room, a short sofa and two stylish but uncomfortable-looking chairs encircling a glass coffee table. One of the chairs was occupied. There, in an elegant but understated black dress, holding a glass of red wine she wasn't actually drinking, was Rose Tyler.

Actually, it was Belle de Jour.

She held herself differently. Her posture and expression were just as precise as her subtle makeup and artfully twisted hair. She looked familiar at first glance because she was, of course, but there was something intangibly different as well. There was a stranger inside her skin. It was unnerving, and he wondered if she felt the same way about him because she froze for the briefest of moments before she stood and smiled at him in greeting. That tiny hitch in her otherwise flawless performance snapped him out of his daze.

If he fucked this up, she'd suffer the consequences, too.

So what if he had a tiny little crush on his best mate? He was a whore. He knew how to hide his feelings.

She took control while he was still sorting himself out, leading them to the bedroom and ushering Zach off to the shower with a toothbrush and a smile. She didn't drop her facade as soon as he was out of the room, but the Doctor saw it falter. A spark of warmth lit in her eyes and he felt his shoulders relax.

"Are you okay with this?" she asked in a low voice.

He nodded quickly.

"Did you know that I was . . . ?"

"No. Jack called me about an hour and a half ago and gave me the bare bones," he said.

Her eyes widened. "He owes you. Hour and a half?" She stepped back and looked him up and down.

He rubbed at the back of his neck. "Well, an hour and forty-three minutes," he conceded. "Do I look that bad?"

"No, no," she said hurriedly, moving closer to him. "You look gorgeous." She straightened his tie and smoothed the lapels of his jacket.

"You're beautiful," he said with a crooked smile.

She actually appeared to be blushing.

"Shall we . . . erm . . ." He jerked his head to indicate something or the other.

"Oh, shit," she said and darted for her handbag. "I need to call Jack. He'll send out the cavalry if he doesn't hear from me soon."

He turned his own mobile over in his hands. Technically, she could confirm for the both of them and he didn't need to call the agency. But a nagging suspicion had been forming in the back of his mind, even while most of its processing power was devoted to the sway of Rose's – Belle's – hips as she walked. She paced in front of the window, gesturing with one hand. It seemed to be a bit more involved than the usual "my client does not appear to be Jack the Ripper" conversation, so he hung back to give her some privacy.

Jack was manning the company phones since it was Donna's night off, so he rang her personal line.

"Hello, John," she said, sounding awfully impatient for someone who answered on the second ring.

"Hullo, Donna," he said with a toothy smile that she was guaranteed to hear. "I just wanted to let you know that I made it to my appointment in spite of the short notice. Everything's molto bene."

"What did you call me for, dumbo? Jack's on tonight."

"Well, since you'd taken such a personal interest in this case, I just wanted to let you know that Belle and I are fine," he said.

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

Belle was still stalking before the window, absorbed in her own conversation. He turned away from her and pitched his voice low. "The client said that you called to tell him that I was coming instead of Jake."

"Yeah," she said, raising her own voice as if to compensate. "Yesterday. I left a note for Jack to confirm it with you. Not my fault he drug his feet."

"And neither one of you felt the need to mention that the job was with Belle?"

"No," she said. "I thought you two got on. Why? Is she mad at you? Did you say something stupid?"

"No, no, no, no, no," he said, rubbing one eye with his free hand. "We're fine. It's just . . . we've never worked together before."

"Okay."

"Really? The whole agency and I end up on a job with her?"

"Why are you being weird about this? Honestly, I'm beginning to think you don't want to shag her."

"It's not that," he said a little too quickly. "It just surprised me. Us on this particular job."

"And what? You think I had something to do with it?" she said. "Spaceman, the world really doesn't revolve around you."

"Alright, alright," he said, defeated.

"Are you alright?" she said sharply, suddenly all business.

"Yes," he said, feeling guilty for inadvertently getting too close to their code word. "Molto bene," he reassured her. "Really."

"Okay, then," she said. "Stop being a drama queen and do your job."

"Yes, ma'am," he said and resisted the urge to salute.

When he hung up, Belle had stopped pacing and was staring off into middle distance while tapping her mobile against her lips. She squeaked when she noticed him watching her.

"Sorry," he said. "It's just, I missed the briefing and was sort of hoping you could fill me in."

"Right, right," she said, casting a quick glance at the bathroom door, behind which Zach was still taking a shower.

He collected himself while she gave him the rundown. There was a reason he was a favorite of both roleplayers and socialites. He was an expert at packing himself away and becoming someone else. Maybe he'd been a bit off kilter earlier, but he was also quick-thinking and adaptable. From what Belle was telling him, he needed to be a backdrop to let her shine. He would be generic enough to let the client imagine himself in his place and Belle would be the center of attention. The part of him that was still John, which still harbored lingering suspicious about Donna's involvement – not to mention her motives – was a tiny bit grateful. If he had to play second fiddle to anyone, he'd rather it be Rose.

Belle, dammit. _Belle_.

She concluded with, "Lose the jacket and the tie. Unbutton your shirt."

He obeyed and stepped out of his shoes as well while she pulled her dress over her head and adjusted her stockings. She herded him to the bed and they were in place just as the shower stopped, lounging in artful carelessness, relaxed and waiting.

"One more thing," she murmured and half turned to face him.

The first kiss was light, gentle, barely a touch. She pulled him back for a proper snog, fingers raking through his hair and teeth grazing his lower lip, just as Zach came through the door. They carried on for a moment longer before looking up expectantly.

"Oh, you're perfect," he murmured, dark eyes raking over the pair of them.

The Doctor knew without looking that Belle's welcoming look was just as sensual and heavy-lidded as his own. A flush spread over Zach's chest and he unconsciously fidgeted with the towel knotted around his waist.

"We were waiting for you," said Belle, stretching out her hand.

He swayed forward to take it, unable to resist. But rather than let her reel him in further, he halted and pressed his lips to her knuckles, an oddly reserved gesture, given the context. "I wouldn't want to impose," he said.

"You're sure?" Belle said and let her hand drop slowly.

"We really wouldn't mind," the Doctor added.

"Honestly, this is what I prefer," said Zach and looked back and forth between their faces. He moved around the bed and settled sideways on the padded bench at its foot, one elbow propped on the duvet.

They turned to face him, Belle sitting up on her knees and the Doctor shifting to sprawl lengthwise across the bed.

"I'm sure you see all kinds," Zach continued, now looking up at them with eyes shining equal parts sincerity and lust, "but this is all it takes to make me happy."

"If you're sure . . . ." Belle tipped her head, and the Doctor could hear the grin in her voice even though he couldn't see her face. "Let us know if you change your mind."

When she turned back to the Doctor it was with a slight frown on her face. He didn't doubt for a second that she was confused and a little concerned for their odd client. He kissed her until she released her lower lip from between her teeth, then he soothed it with his tongue. She opened up to him immediately, teasing and tasting. Her hands slipped into his open shirt and wandered in restless patterns. Before too long, they moved decisively to his shoulders and he shook himself free of the garment.

She pressed herself against his chest and he obligingly fell back, settling his hands at her hips while she kissed her way down his throat. The silk of her stockings was deliciously smooth, but he preferred the little strips of skin between the tops of them and the lacy edges of her knickers. When he let his fingers wander and curl around her thighs, she breathed out a low, shuddery moan. She might have been calling the shots, but he wasn't her client, there to take his own pleasure without returning the favor.

A glance at Zach showed that he was just as interested, his eyes fixed on where the Doctor's hands met Belle's flesh. He briefly relinquished one hold to push back the curtain of her hair and expose her dark, gleaming eyes and kiss-swollen lips. She gave the Doctor a wink that was both reward and challenge before sitting back to peel the stockings off entirely and swinging a leg over to straddle him. If he stopped breathing for a moment, surely it was because she was bracing herself on his chest.

She noticed. Then she crawled backwards, just barely brushing against his body as she moved down the length of it, gaze flicking sideways to include Zach in her conspiratorial smile. She pressed a hot kiss just below his navel and the Doctor whimpered. He had always been a vocal creature. Most of his clients liked it, so he indulged when he could and often exaggerated his reactions. Now was not an exaggeration and he got the feeling she could tell.

Before he had time to catch his breath, she had his trousers and pants off of him and a condom in place. She arched into his hands when he reached for her. If she hadn't been looking so smug, he wouldn't have rolled them quite so quickly. She took in their reversed positions with a startled huff that was almost a laugh. It became a throaty groan when he turned his attention to her breasts. He'd always thought that they looked lovely and, as soon as he got the bra out of the way, he confirmed that they tasted just as good. She was wonderfully responsive beneath his hands and mouth, but he didn't allow himself to speculate how much of it was an act.

Zach was entranced, his breathing quick and shallow. The arm he wasn't leaning on the bed moved steadily below the Doctor's line of sight.

Satisfied that the client was happy, the Doctor turned back to Belle. She had shed her knickers in his moment of distraction and hooked her legs around his hips. He ignored her impatient tugging and instead skated one hand from her nipple to her clit. Her jaw dropped and her eyes drifted closed as he caressed her with teasing brushes and then firm, tight circles. One of her hands clenched on his bum and the other dove into his hair. He leaned into that touch with a low, manly sound that was certainly not a purr.

She rolled her hips, deliberately rubbing herself against his erection. The rhythm of his fingers faltered. He let his head drop and he nipped at her collarbone. She stiffened ever so slightly, but immediately relaxed again. He knew better than to leave a mark. That didn't stop him from shifting to give the other side the same treatment. Just as his teeth released her, she rolled her hips again. This time, she had the angle right for him to slip inside of her and out again as she moved. His hands scrambled to catch her waist.

She tangled her legs with his and then she was on top again, gloriously naked and proud as any queen. She flung back her head as she sank onto his cock. She laughed breathlessly and he wondered if he looked as awe-stuck as Zach did. He was trembling with the effort of keeping himself still. When she began to move, his eyes fell closed and he groaned low in his chest. He matched her slow, rocking rhythm. It built between them until they were panting, his fingers gripping her thighs and hers fisted in the bedding on either side of his head. He opened his eyes to stare straight into her own.

Still holding her gaze, he moved his thumb between her wet folds to her clit. A few light strokes and one hard press and she was shattering around him. Her cries might have been just part of the show, but the clenching muscles around his cock were real enough. He followed her with a few short thrusts, arching off the bed as he came. His thumb was still stoking, gentler now, easing her down. She sank down onto his chest bonelessly.

The Doctor had barely enough energy to turn his head, but he managed a smile when he found Zach just as sated as he was, sprawled half on the bed with his cheek on his forearm.

"That was amazing," he said when he opened his eyes.

"I rather think it was."

Belle didn't speak, but she turned her head to press her lips to the center of his chest. He stroked her back idly.

Zach got to his feet while the Doctor was contemplating moving his other arm out from under Belle. She sat up almost as quickly, ignoring the Doctor's grumble when she used his ribcage for leverage.

"Ready for round two?" she said and curled her tongue between her teeth.

"I – ah – no," Zach said. "It was wonderful, it really was, but I – um – I should go."

Then he darted into the loo, presumably to fetch his clothes, and shut the door behind him.

Belle turned her confused gaze back to the Doctor. He shrugged and wondered if the gesture looked as ridiculous as it felt when he was flat on his back.

Zach came out again before either of them had bothered to move. He was neatly dressed once more, not a hair out of place. "Feel free to stay the night," he said as he sat back down on the bench to lace up his shoes. "The room is booked through tomorrow morning. Thank you both again. It was lovely."

"Wait – hang on," Belle scrambled after him.

She caught Zach's arm with a gentle hand, the other folded over her breasts in an odd gesture of modesty. She peered into his face. "You really don't have to rush off," she said. "I mean, you've paid for the whole night."

But Zach was already shaking his head.

"You sure there's nothing else we can do, mate?" the Doctor spoke up.

"No, really. It was just what I wanted."

Then he was gone.

Belle and the Doctor looked at one another.

"Well, I guess we've got the same weirdo of the week," he said.

"I had to wear a gasmask on Thursday," she said absentmindedly, picking up his shirt and shaking out the wrinkles.

He wondered if she meant to fold it up or put it on and simultaneously hoped for both. Some primal part of his brain desperately wanted to see her in his clothing, but his current state of undress might make his appreciation a little too obvious.

"Did he even come?" she said suddenly.

The Doctor nodded to the door. "He just went."

She threw the shirt at his head with more force than was strictly necessary.

"I mean, yes, I'm pretty sure he did," he said, trying not to feel disappointed.

"Really? I was a little . . . um." She turned slightly pink.

"What?"

"Shut up."

"What?"

"Nothing. I'm going to get a shower," she said decisively. She strode to the loo without meeting his eye.

"A little _what_?" he called after her.

She stuck her head around the door frame. "Distracted," she said and shut the door.

He wallowed in that admission for a moment. It was always nice to know that he was good at his job. But he couldn't let himself think about that for too long. He got up and disposed of the condom, collected their scattered clothing, and counted the contents of both envelopes on the chest of drawers. Both contained a nice tip in addition to their already substantial fees. Zach might have been an odd client, but at least he was honest and considerate. The Doctor refused to let himself hope that he would become a regular.

Belle returned in a cloud of steam and told him she understood why Zach had taken his time in the shower. When they traded places, the Doctor had to admit that she was right. The water temperature and pressure were perfect and he felt last remaining tension in his muscles dwindle away. It smelled lovely as well, though the lingering scent didn't match any of the shampoos and soaps provided. He wondered if Belle had brought her own.

When he returned to the bedroom, it was dim and quiet. Ornate lamps on the bedside tables cast the only light in the room. It felt cozy in spite of its opulence. It also seemed rather deserted.

"Ro- Belle?"

The top of the duvet flipped back to reveal a tousseled blonde head.

"You have _got_ to feel these sheets."

He traded the damp towel for his boxers and slid in beside her with a little sigh.

She turned on her side to face him and propped her chin in one hand. "What do you think?"

Sateen cotton sheets with a thread count in the thousands on top of a foam mattress that was probably more high-tech than his mobile cocooned him. "What time is checkout?" he said.

She laughed softly. "Eleven o'clock. I called down to check."

"Wake me at ten til."

Laughing, she burrowed into his side and he hummed contently and curled an arm around her. She wasn't wearing one of the hotel robes but something cool and silky. He wondered just what sort of things she kept in her handbag.

"Do you really want to stay?" she said.

He made a vague noise in his throat. "Do you?"

She didn't say anything, but laid her head on his chest. He stroked the damp strands of her hair.

"This is pretty nice," she said eventually.

He hummed again.

"And it's already paid for," she continued. "Shame to waste it."

"My thoughts exactly," he said and hugged her a little tighter. "And it's our day off."

She sat up a little to look at the clock. "Not quite."

He squinted at the numbers. "It's our day off in . . . Norway," he said.

She giggled. "Close enough."

"Do you usually stay the night?" she said suddenly.

He half shrugged. "Depends on the client."

"I mean like this." She flipped her hand to indicate the room.

"Nah, I'd rather have my own bed," he said. "Or another job," he added.

"When you stay with the client, though, do you sleep?"

"No. Screaming nightmares aren't exactly sexy," she said wryly.

She frowned and pursed her lips. "You've slept on my couch loads of times and I've never heard you."

He squirmed uncomfortably, unable to explain how her mere presence soothed him.

She didn't probe his non-answer but settled down half on top of him, one arm over his abdomen and a knee propped on his. She shifted around after a moment and groped his thigh. He bit back a yelp.

"Have you got pockets in you pants?" she said incredulously.

"Yes," he said. "They're handy."

She snorted, then giggled, then finally laughed so hard she ended up curled in a shaking ball with her hands over her face.

"It's really not that funny," he said.

"'They're handy,'" she wheezed. She caught her breath and rubbed her cheeks. "Well, go on, then. What's so important for you to keep that close?"

Seven condoms of various kinds, two packets of lube, a comb, a silk ribbon, a business card for the agency, and a tube of chapstick, as it turned out. He spread them on the duvet over his lap and she picked through them with shameless curiosity. The ribbon was woven through her fingers in a mesmerizing pattern that made his throat slightly dry. She fanned out the condoms like a hand of cards but didn't ask questions, even though one of them claimed to be banana flavored. When she'd looked her fill, he deposited his little hoard on the bedside table. He let her keep the ribbon.

"It isn't very comfortable to sleep on," he admitted.

"You planning on sleeping, then?"

"Well, the bed is divine and the company isn't too shabby," he said. "And I'm awfully tired, for some reason."

She went pink again. It was a little more obvious this time, as she'd scrubbed off her makeup in the shower. "No three mile run at the crack of dawn?" she said lightly.

"Well, if you've got your heart set on it –"

"That's okay," she said.

"Go to sleep, then," he said, tugging her closer and nuzzling the top of her head.

It felt oddly domestic, like they were an ordinary couple going to bed on an ordinary Monday night. They weren't a couple, ordinary or otherwise, and a few years ago the very thought of such a thing would have sent him into a panic. Now, though, even when he knew it would never be real, he let himself take comfort in pretending.

"It was nice," she said very softly, without lifting her head from its rightful place over his heart.

"Hmm?"

"Tonight," she said. "It was . . . nice."

His sluggish brain worked out what she was saying and was suddenly very awake. "Yeah," he said a bit hoarsely. "It was – it was great. Almost like I –" He shut his mouth with a click. Apparently, his brain wasn't as awake as he thought it was.

"Hmm?" she echoed and tilted her head. "Almost like what?"

Maybe it was the quiet intimacy of the room or the dimness that lent some air of secrecy and allowed him to finish that thought aloud. "Almost like I thought it would be."

She went very still.

"Didn't imagine the audience," he chuckled. When she still didn't answer, his tongue bolted like a spooked horse. "Or the hotel room. I mean, we both have perfectly serviceable beds or couches or kitchen tables. And – _and_ we frequent each other's homes on a regular basis so the odds of this happening somewhere else would have been very long. I certainly wouldn't have bet on it, if I were a betting man. There was always the chance that it would be part of a job, of course, or related to the business in general. That's a given, but –"

She lifted her head and put her fingertips against his mouth, trapping his reckless words within. "You've thought about . . . us?" she said slowly.

He didn't trust himself to do more than nod.

"You've thought about me?" she said.

And that was the crossroad. This conversation could take two vastly different paths dependent upon his answer. He could practically feel the possibilities thrumming in the air around them. Did the Doctor have curiosity and admiration for Belle, as one professional to another? Or did John have feelings for Rose, as a mate who wanted to be something more?

He didn't deserve her. Neither of him was worth of either of her in any way, shape, or form. She was so bold and compassionate and so gloriously alive that there were times when he berated himself for even thinking of her. She was his very best friend and he lived in fear of the day when she realized that she could do so much better and left him behind. Wasted potential, that's all he was. He couldn't bear to drag her down.

"John?"

Her voice was so hesitant that he looked at her, startled. Dark brown eyes were wide but guarded as she watched him. She was anxiously awaiting his answer and he wondered how long he'd been lost in thought. He began to gather himself up, smooth the tense lines on his face and slow his rapid pulse, to let the Doctor's cheery casualness protect John's fortified heart.

She saw him pull the mask in place. The warm but nervous expression on her face closed off. She pulled away and tightly closed her eyes.

Oh.

_Oh_.

"Rose," he said in a voice hushed in awe. He let his fingers brush her face.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I hoped – I mean, I just thought that maybe you –"

She went very still when he kissed her and for a moment he was sure he had made a terrible mistake. Then her lips curved into a smile even as they chased after his, sliding and suckling when he tried to retreat. He hoisted her on top of him and she joyfully wrapped herself around him and returned one hand to his hair. They parted only as much as they had to in order to breathe, foreheads together and noses brushing.

"Hello," he said, somewhat giddily.

"Hi," she grinned.

He didn't deserve her, of that he was absolutely certain. But he couldn't refuse her anything that was in his power to give, even if she was actually mad enough to want him in return. She couldn't possibly want him. Surely he'd misunderstood her look of pained resignation.

"Is this – I mean are you sure – do you really –" Why couldn't he form a sentence when he actually wanted to?

"Spit it out, then," she murmured, leaning down to nibble on his earlobe, which was really, incredibly unfair. Also, brilliant.

"How do you – ahh – that is to say –" He wanted to tug on his ear in frustration, but Rose was applying lovely ministrations to one of them and anyway, his hands had settled on their rightful places on her bum and refused to move. No wonder his mind was chasing itself in circles. "You could have anyone in the world that you wanted!" he finally burst out.

"I know," she said placidly and switched ears. "But for the longest time I was afraid you didn't want me back."

"Don't think that," he said, low and surprisingly fierce, tightening his grip on her. "Don't ever, ever think that."

"There we are, then," she said. She straightened and licked her lips.

"I should probably say something about ruining our friendship," he said. His thumbs were tracing the curve of her hipbones.

"Oh, I think we're already past that point. It's positively in shambles," she said and his heart stuttered a bit before she continued with a lupine grin, "No going back now."

"Nope," he said cheerfully. "Allons-y, Rose Tyler!" His smile was so wide he could actually feel his cheeks starting to ache.

"That's the spirit," she said.

There was a knock at the door.

"Did you order room service or something?" she said.

He shook his head.

It was doubtful that John had ever been more reluctant to move in his entire life but common courtesy, and no small amount of curiosity, dictated that he must. Rose scrambled off of him with a quick peck to the cheek and adjusted her robe. He did the best he could with his pants and padded after her. The door beeped and clicked open just as they reached it.

"Ah, sorry," Zach said, a little wide-eyed. "I figured you two had already gone."

"No, no, we were just, erm . . ." John made a vague sort of noise.

"Right," Zach said slowly. "Anyway, I've lost my mobile and I really hope it's here."

Rose dialed the number he gave her and they all stood around various parts of the suite looking a bit silly with their heads cocked trying to breathe quietly. The sofa in the sitting room began to buzz and John retrieved the wayward mobile from between its cushions.

Zach thanked them again and bid them good night. "Don't have too much fun," he said as he pulled the door closed.

"No such thing," John growled in Rose's ear and made her squeak.

She turned and draped her arms around his neck. "We'll never know unless we try."

"Excellent hypothesis," he said and scooped her up.

She shrieked in playful surprise and then clapped a hand over her mouth when she remembered where they were. She curled up trustingly in his arms as he carried her back to the bedroom. He put her down her in the middle of the bed, settling himself over her. The collar of her robe was loose and he nosed his way inside.

"Weren't we taking about something important?" she said.

"Yes, very," he said and gave into the temptation to get a proper taste of her throat.

She groaned. "About moving forward, right?"

"Oh, yes," he said. He ground his hips against hers and she arched to meet him. "And back." He withdrew. "And then forward again." He pushed against her again and she curled her legs around him to keep him there.

"Actually, I was thinking," she said, and nuzzled his temple to lure him up for a proper kiss. "I was thinking," she continued a few minutes later, noticeably shorter of breath. "I've heard the filthiest rumors about your tongue that I was rather hoping you could confirm."

ooo

Zach waited until he got home to call. He was perfectly used to being discreet, but this conversation could not be couched in euphemisms and suggestions. When he was sprawled in his favorite chair and Scooti had appeared from wherever she had hidden herself with demanding meows until he rubbed her ears, he finally made the call.

Jack picked up on the first ring. "Captain Zack! And how are you this fine evening?"

"I'm quite well, Captain Jack, and yourself?"

"I get the feeling you're about to make my day a whole lot better," said Jack. "Just one second." Zack could hear him fiddling with the device, and when he spoke again his voice was more distant. "Still there?"

"I'm here," said Zach.

"Hello, Zach," said Donna, sounding a little more distant than Jack, though she made up for it in volume.

"Evening, ma'am."

"So, how did it go?" Jack said, eager as a puppy. "Give us all the details."

"That won't be necessary," Donna cut in quickly.

"Preliminary reports indicate the mission a success," said Zack.

Jack whooped loudly and Donna burst out laughing.

"What happened?" said Jack. "What did you see?"

"Well," said Zack. "I played the voyeur angle like you suggested. I gave them plenty of time to talk while I was in the shower and left after one round."

"Really?" said Jack. "If I had those two booked for a night – ow!"

"Don't need to hear it from you," said Donna.

"Anyway, then I hung around the lobby for about an hour," Zach continued. "Never saw either one of them leave."

"They'd better appreciate that room," Donna muttered.

"But, I'd left my mobile in the room, so I had an excuse to go back up."

Jack barked out a laugh. "Clever bastard. And? Did you catch them at it?"

"I definitely interrupted something," Zach grinned. "They had cleaned up, but they were barely dressed and I'm sure there had been some snogging."

Donna voiced a triumphant "Ha!"

"Anything else?" said Jack.

"Well," said Zack, who was rather enjoying such a receptive audience, "the bed was unmade and mussed up, which it hadn't been when I left the first time, and there were condoms and things on the table with the lamp. And I heard some squealing and giggling as soon as I was gone."

"Oh, thank goodness," said Donna. "Zack, you have no idea how long I've had to put up with those two mooning over each other."

"I'd say it was about as long as I have," said Jack.

"You only encourage it, and don't think I don't know," said Donna.

"Hey, I helped you resolve it, didn't I?" said Jack.

"He did find me," said Zack loyally.

"And it sounds like you were perfect," Donna said. "Sure you don't want to join us full time?"

"Nah, not now anyway," said Zack. "I'm kinda liking the freelance gigs. Besides, things could get interesting if I ran into those two in a professional capacity."

"Oh, we'll own up to it eventually," said Donna dismissively.

Zack laughed. "I want to see their reactions when they do, but maybe from a safe distance."

"We'll record it for you or something," said Jack. Then, "Now there's something I should have thought of earlier . . ."

"No, no, absolutely not," said Donna. "I'm more than happy to take his word for it. I do not need that kind of proof."

"Now, Donna –"

"I swear, you were made for this job, mind always in the gutter," she said.

"Look at the company I keep, sweetheart," said Jack.

"Careful, or somebody's going to turn matchmaker you two, next," said Zack.

There was a moment of horrified silence before both of them began talking at once. Zack laughed and laughed.

Donna finally overrode them. "If this is how you repay me, see if I ever hire you again, Zachary," she spat with mocking ire.

"Since this is all you've ever hired me for, I don't think you have my full measure, yet," he shot back. "But a job where I'm the client of my clients is certainly a fun way to mix it up."

"Who knows, we may have to bring you back to straighten them out sometime," said Zack.

"Heavens forefend," said Donna. "I hope once is enough."

Another phone began to ring in the background.

"In the meantime, I've got a business to run," she continued smoothly. "Goodnight, Zach. Thanks again."

"My pleasure, any time," said Zach and ended the call.

Scooti roused as he shifted and stretched. He nudged her off of his lap to stand and she streaked past him into the kitchen to stare pointedly at her food dish. He chuckled and followed her.

"So, about my weirdo of the week," he said as he rummaged around the cabinets. "There's actually four of them – two agents and two escorts, well, technically three. Now, the two agents want to two escorts to work out all that sexual tension they've been generating, but they can't just hire them to sleep with each other. So that's where yours truly comes in . . ."


End file.
